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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476695">Fashion Statement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffandRuffle1/pseuds/Ruffle'>Ruffle (PuffandRuffle1)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate SG-1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, M/M, Smarm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:48:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffandRuffle1/pseuds/Ruffle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack surprises Daniel trying on his leather jacket.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fashion Statement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Previously appeared in the zine Pretense 2.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>God, I miss Jack.</p><p>All I can think about is Jack.</p><p>I suppose it's not really such a mystery. It's exactly because I was

used to being alone before… but all that's changed now. You don't miss

something you're not used to. I've grown used to having Jack around.</p><p>Big mistake, Jackson. You ought to know better than to let yourself get

used to something like that. You'll be sorry. You always are.</p><p>But it doesn't feel like a mistake.</p><p>It feels so natural – Jack being there. I'm used to his company, his

conversation – yes, even the wisecracks – his smile, his touch, that look

in his eyes that says I matter to him. It's not important what we're

doing, I'm used to him hanging around, just being Jack. It took me so long

to grasp the simple fact that not only didn't he mind spending time with

me, he actually preferred it. Now that we're so comfortable together,

being apart is what seems unnatural.</p><p>I've even gotten used to him bugging me constantly, not letting me get

any work done, always dragging me off to have Fun with a capital ‘F' as

defined by Jack O'Neill – which could mean anything from watching a hockey

game to building a snowman… or making love hot enough to melt all the snow

and ice in Colorado. I wish he was here right now pestering me to get my

nose out of a book and into some fresh air, or better yet nuzzling his

nose. Damn.</p><p>Why isn't he home yet? He should've been back by now. I hate feeling at

such a loose end without him.</p><p>It's like an actual physical ache whenever he's not around, like a part

of me is missing that's only complete when he walks into the room. That

sounds so hokey, but it's the best way to describe how I feel.</p><p>At least it's better here in his house surrounded by his things.

Everything here speaks to me of Jack. I can hear the echoes of his voice

in every room, taste the spicy food/tangy beer combination permeating his

kitchen, smell the woodsy aftershave lingering in his bathroom, feel the

warmth of his arms around me, strong yet encased in the soft leather of

his favorite jacket.</p><p>Fingering the black leather sends a siren song to my senses,

overwhelming me with the urge to wrap myself in Jack's essence. Before the

thought is fully formed, I slip my arms into the sleeves and shrug into

the jacket. Enfolded in Jack's warmth, I breathe deeply. The peaceful,

secure feeling Jack's presence always evokes settles around me.</p><p>Might as well forget about work this evening, but there must be

something useful I can occupy myself with. Food. Looking vaguely around, I

realize the lack of it. If I run out and pick up some dinner, we could

stay in instead of going out later. Staying in with Jack has definite

advantages.</p><p>I'm just grabbing the keys and looking around for my glasses when I

hear the door open. He's home.</p><p>"Jack!"</p><p>*****</p><p>"Daniel?"</p><p>What is he wearing? A leather jacket? 



<i>My</i> leather jacket? He looks like a dictionary illustration for the

word hot. We're headed for a sizzling leather meltdown here. Holy smoke,

Bullwinkle! How can one article of clothing make such a difference in

anyone's appearance?</p><p>Now I know my hormones have been working overtime because I've been

missing him like hell and he's guaranteed to look good to me no matter

what he's wearing – or not wearing and that's a whole other look we're

definitely going to explore later, but meanwhile getting back on track

here, O'Neill – the picture he makes now is so far above good it's getting

altitude sickness.</p><p>Daniel always tells me I look sexy in that leather jacket. Maybe I'm

getting a glimmer of what he means now the jacket's on the other back.

Sexy doesn't even begin to cover it.</p><p>He looks incredible. He looks like a model in a commercial so hip you

can't figure out what it's advertising. He looks like he could give advice

to a rock star on how to get chicks. He looks like Bruce Springsteen

should be writing a song about his life story on the road as the biker

king of cool. He looks like James Fucking Dean, and I have to stop myself

on the verge of asking for his autograph.</p><p>The rest of his ensemble consists of his new black jeans and a plain

matching tee-shirt, but there's nothing basic about Daniel in black. The

color nicely sets off the ivory skin over his familiar, oh-so-tasty

features. His hair, which looks darker since he's cut it short, glints

with gold highlights. From this muted palette, beneath the wings of his

eyebrows, shine those blue eyes, clear as the sky and as infinite in their

depths of feeling. How does he manage to look tough and yet vulnerable at

the same time?</p><p>My eyes widen as I note the car keys dangling from his hand. The

confused mix of shock, appreciation, and arousal careening through my head

(and other body parts) take a back seat to a new concern. "Going

somewhere?" I try for bland, repressing the scowl I sense forming on my

face. It'd totally ruin the effect of the nonchalance I'm going for

here.</p><p>"Yeah, I thought I'd bring back something for a relaxing dinner here.

Why don't I go ahead while you unwind, take a shower. I'll be back in a

flash."</p><p>Sure he will. He takes one step out that door and every unattached man,

woman, or snake in town is going to be so hot on his trail I'd never see

him again if not for being able to follow the melted pavement. He is so

not going anywhere without me. Not in that outfit. "You're going out

dressed like that?"</p><p>"Huh?" Blinking in bewilderment, he glances down at himself. A faint

blush dusts the pale cheeks. "You mean your jacket? It was lying around

and I, um, put it on because it was, uh, warm." He looks back up

anxiously. "I didn't think you'd mind if I borrowed it."</p><p>Mind? Oh boy, nope, not a problem, borrow away, you should wear it more

often, in fact I'll buy you one of your very own you can wear all the time

– at home of course, not in public. You don't want to be causing a riot.

Swallowing, I find my voice. "Daniel, you are not going out looking like

that." Seeing his baffled frown, I amend my statement. "Not without me

anyway."</p><p>The frown deepens. "Jack, what are you talking about?"</p><p>How can I begin to explain? He wouldn't get it. When it comes to his

desirability, Daniel has a blind spot the size of an Asgard ship. Chuck

the explanation, I'm a show-not-tell kind of guy anyway. And it's

showtime.</p><p>"This." Grabbing the edges of his collar, I yank him towards me and

plant one on him. His initial startled tensing melts as the kiss goes on.

And on. I plunder that delectable mouth and feel him molding himself to my

body. Oh yeah, this kiss is the full court press. Sparks leap into action

everywhere he touches. God, Daniel, what you do to me. And I'm not giving

you a chance to do it to anyone else.</p><p>I finally grant him an opportunity to catch a breath as I ease back

just a bit, continuing to nibble and taste those perfect lips.</p><p>"Jack, thith ith vewy nithe," he mumbles around my darting tongue, "but

mmph…?"</p><p>I don't let him finish. Renewing the deep kiss, I nudge him backwards,

steering him towards the couch. We bump the edge and tumble onto it in a

tangle of limbs. Suits me. Daniel's the top choice on my list of people

I'd most want to be tangled with. Come to think of it, Daniel's the top

choice on my list of people I'd most want to be with stranded on a desert

island, stuck in an elevator, mining naked, or any of your other basic

hypothetical situations.</p><p>Sliding my hands under that supple jacket, I stroke the equally supple

muscles beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. He arches satisfyingly at my

touch and wraps a leg around mine. One thing about Daniel, once you

involve him in an activity, he throws himself enthusiastically into it and

gives it his full attention. I endeavor to be the object of that

enthusiasm as frequently as possible.</p><p>His fingers entwine in my hair as he crushes my mouth to his. Our

groins are rubbing enticingly, his body writhing energetically below mine.

Hearing his moan above the creak of leather, I lower my hands to his waist

to undo his fly, then mine, slipping us both free. At his deepening groan,

my own need builds, and I match the urgency of his movements. Cocks

clashing, hips grinding, I'm lost in discovering anew the passion that is

Daniel. On a surge of release I mark him as mine, and he leaves his mark

on me. We belong together, Daniel. Can you understand this is my way of

saying that?</p><p>I watch the tremors rippling through his muscles as we lie there

holding onto each other, slowly returning from the stratosphere. Running

my fingers through the short, soft feathers of his hair, I contemplate

this man who's insinuated himself so completely into my life and my heart.

He's not a model or a biker or a movie star. He's Daniel. I've gotten used

to having him around, and I don't want to go back to a life without

him.</p><p>The glazed look fades from his eyes, and a smile lights them, that

smile he keeps for me alone, the one that tells me in his twenty-fourth

language how much he loves me. "Jack?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"I missed you, too."</p><p>He understands.</p><p>THE END</p>
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